No Strings Attached
by RavenclawPride06
Summary: A Stydia Spider-Man au. Major Character death - takes place a year before the story.
1. Chapter 1

_Click._

The shutter of his camera blinks at his push of the button and with a reassuring whir it's ready to take the next photograph. Stiles Stilinski loves photography for the pure simplicity it affords, find the right angle, the right lighting and you could capture anything you liked in that little lens. He had always preferred to observe than to participate and hiding behind his camera allowed him the anonymity he so desired.

Until now.

It was rare that the subject of his photography wasn't Spider-Man, a task which proved difficult at the best of times and on occasion could be kind of painful. However, when your high school principal asks you, a teenage boy, to take pictures of the girls' netball team for the school paper – you do it, no questions asked.

It only becomes awkward when the head of the netball squad – also known as the indefinable Lydia Martin and the girl you've loved for half your life – insists on provocatively posing into the camera.

With Lydia's usually pristine strawberry blonde locks falling from their ties and her red bee-stung lips pouting into the lens, Stiles shifts uncomfortably, an action which doesn't go unnoticed by the rest of the girls. Their laughter peals around him and Lydia looks straight at him and grins. Unbeknownst to most of the team he snaps a shot of their mirth and declares it the best photograph he's taken.

As he brings the camera down from his face, he feels both Lydia's gaze and the heat rise in his cheeks.

Raising her voice she calls cheekily, 'I'm sorry Mr. Photographer. I'll behave.'

'I – uh, it's okay, I think we're done here,' Stiles lifts his camera in a kind of salute and heads towards the door.

Nobody stops him.

Little did Stiles know that a certain redhead was watching him leave, head tilted to one side with a curious expression on her face.

* * *

He threw himself down on his bed with such force that he bounced a few inches off the mattress. He hated making a fool of himself and even more so because Lydia had been there to witness his embarrassment.

Lydia Martin – she was captain of the netball squad, star of every production produced by his school and the smartest person in science class. She was everything and she knew it. There was only one thing missing; something which she'd had when Stiles had first met her, back in middle school - a softer side. He knew it was something that hadn't disappeared completely, he even saw it occasionally. Jackson had only made it worse, _thank God he moved to England,_ Stiles groaned internally, rubbing his face and sitting up.

Walking over to his closet and throwing open the doors, he grins at what he finds there, his red and blue suit peeks out from between the layers of plaid. Reaching over to his bedside table and flicking on the police scanner which sits there, Stiles pulls his shirt over his head.

It is with a graceful ease that he swings though the streets of New York City and if he's being completely honest, it's a technique that took him a while to master. It had been over a year since Stiles had received 'the bite,' and a year since his Uncle had died. John Stilinski had been like a father to him and it was through both his actions while alive and the circumstances of his death that Stiles had learned to take responsibility for his actions.

A crackle interrupts his thoughts and Stiles turns his attention to the earphone embedded in his suit, sown into the fabric right over his ear.

 _We've got a 417 at a restaurant on West 23_ _rd_ _street. Suspect is considered dangerous - approach with caution._

Stiles swings in a U-turn knowing that, luckily, 23rd is only a couple of blocks from his current location.

'Did you even make a reservation?' he says, popping up behind the gentleman in the mask, 'you know, in a place like this it's always best to phone ahead.'

By the time the police get there Spider-Man has not only retrieved the gun from the idiot wielding it but the suspect in question has gotten a bit tangled up – in his web!

Stiles watches from the rooftop across the street as the cop cars come careening down the street, blue flashes lighting up the sides of buildings as they pass. And behind the mask, he smiles.

* * *

'A girl named Lydia Martin called to see you.'

Stiles spit out the juice he was drinking from the carton. Luckily most of it landed in the sink he was standing next to.

'What did you just say?' he spluttered in the direction of his Aunt Melissa.

'Lydia – she called to see you last night whilst you were out doing God-knows-what. She seems like a nice girl.'

By this point Stiles had already dismissed the idea, the girl who had owned his heart since third grade, voluntarily coming to his house. Definitely not.

* * *

All the same he felt the nerves kick in as he entered the school doors and saw her standing only a short distance down the hall. What if it had been her, after all?

But - as she had done since they started high school - she ignored him as if it were any other day and continued flirting with the latest bit of boy-candy she was wearing on her arm.

Clearly his Aunt Melissa had been wrong about Lydia's appearance at 20 Ingram Street.

It wasn't until after lunchtime, when they had physics together that Stiles noticed her staring at him. When he caught her she let out a little giggle at his expression, which he had to admit, probably did look slightly gormless.

Stiles spends the rest of the lesson trying to ignore her gaze and when the lesson ends and there is a crush to get out of the small classroom door he feels a delicate hand on his arm. He turns to see Lydia Martin who in the midst of the crowd, stands on her tip-toes to whisper into his ear, 'I want to see those pictures, make sure you're home tonight.'

Stiles manages a stuttered, 'okay,' before the crowd swallows her.

* * *

Holy shit, Lydia Martin was in his room, not only that but she was naked aside from her underwear.

'Face it Tiger, you hit the jackpot!' Lydia laughs at his stunned expression.

Stiles blinks, still not entirely sure how this had happened.

 _'These aren't bad,' Lydia smiles at the computer screen and clicks out of the folder containing the pictures of the netball team. She stops as she spots something on the screen, moving her mouse to hover over it. Double-clicking, Lydia makes all the photos of Spider-man he's ever taken appear on screen._

 _'You took these?' She gapes at a particularly detailed close up._

 _He nods and without taking her eyes off the screen she says, 'Stiles, these are really good.'_

 _'So, do you, like, know him?'_

'Well… I don't know, he seems to like me,' it's the best explanation he can come up with without a suspicious pause.

 _Lydia hesitates for only a microsecond before she stands and turns to him with a fierce look in her eyes and a wicked smile on her lips._

 _'I want you to photograph me,' she says, as if daring him to say no._

 _'What?' He replies, doubtful that he's heard her properly._

' _I want you to take some photographs of me.'_

He had, not being able to resist Lydia Martin and her emerald eyes and her mane of red hair. And that was fine, when he had just been taking head shots, but then she had started stripping out of her high-waisted skirt and before Stiles could ask what she's doing she's lying on his bed in just her underwear.

'What are you waiting for, Stiles?' she sounded bored, frustrated by his apparent lack of ability to grasp the situation.

'You want me to take photos of you – like this?' he gestured with his hand, sweeping through the air above the length of her body without his eyes ever leaving hers.

'Obviously.'

'Why?' Stiles asked, genuinely curious.

'Oh Stiles, just stop asking questions. It will be fun.'

He eventually acquiesced and she was right – it was fun. She was a good subject and Stiles found it interesting to photograph something new, finding angles where the light bounced off her curves just so. She was beautiful – on more than one occasion she took Stiles' breath away – and she knew just how to play the camera too, knew just how to give just enough sex appeal without going overboard.

Then, once it was over, Lydia all but begged Stiles to put the photos onto his computer straight away so she could look at them. It was her delighted squeal and the kiss she planted on his cheek that made it all worth it.

'I'm sick of the one dimensional boys that hang around me,' Lydia says as she's leaving and if Stiles didn't know any better, he would have said that she almost sounded hesitant.

He hardly knows what to say to her, so he doesn't say anything at all.

'Can I come back next week?' She asks and there's a hopeful edge to her voice that Stiles just can't miss. It seems as if his years of being a wallflower have finally come to something useful.

Stiles thinks of all the ways he could reply to this question. He could tell her that he would never say no to Lydia Martin, he could tell her that he'll be busy – of course she doesn't have to know that it's because he's needed out on the streets, to fight the good fight. He could ask her why, if she's been happy enough to avoid him for so long, she is so interested in stopping now. But he doesn't say any of those things. Instead he just says one word.

'Yes.'


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles grabs his phone and presses the button, causing the screen to light up. In the darkness the brightness burns his eyes and he closes them for a second to get rid of the glare.

11:28

It feels like he's been trying to get to sleep for hours and it's not even half past 11 yet - it's Lydia - she's been running through his mind, sprawled across this very bed, her scent lingering on his pillows in a way that has his stomach clenching and the blood rushing to his groin.

He needs something to take his mind off it – off her.

* * *

Quickly, he gets up and dressed, donning the red and blue suit that Spider-Man is so famous for.

Stiles pulls off his mask as he walks across the roof of his best friend's balcony and smiles at the same time. It had been an exhilarating journey – it wasn't often that he got to web-swing somewhere without an emergency situation awaiting him.

Slowly, he lowers himself from Scott's roof, tipping himself upside down so as to see into his room.

"AGH!"

"AGH!"

Scott - wielding a baseball bat and a terrified look on his face screams at Stiles, whose heartrate increase by a few thousand BPM.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?"

"Lydia was at my house earlier."

Scott looks stunned and as Stiles dismounts – with the least amount of grace possible – he asks, "the Lydia Martin?"

"The one I've had a crush on since third grade? Yes, that would be the one."

"Dude! What happened?"

Stiles pauses, deciding in that moment to tell his friend everything except the fact that Lydia was half naked on his bed and he was taking photos of her – besides the fact that it sounded really weird in his head there was also the fact that he didn't want to explain why he hadn't made a move on her. Despite the fact that Scott had been his best friend since they were toddlers, playing together in the sandpit, and possessed the moral code of Captain America, there are just some things you can't tell a friend who is also a guy. And not banging the girl you've been banging on about for the past eight years is one of them, especially when she starts divesting herself of clothes in your bedroom.

It's almost two thirty by the time Stiles collapses into bed, completely exhausted. This time he has no trouble falling asleep.

* * *

Lydia Martin sits in his room for the third time in four weeks and having completed their chemistry homework together, they sit at opposite ends of the bed. Lydia is reading the script for the new play she's in, muttering sentences under her breath. Stiles is editing new photographs of Spider-man on his laptop.

It is a peaceful moment with her, a moment when his heart doesn't feel as if it will hammer itself out of his chest with her sultry gaze.

Until she destroys the peace with a question he would never have imagined.

She regards him curiously, "how is it that you haven't tried to come on to me yet?"

"What? Wait, should I have?"

"I know you have the hots for me. And every other boy I've been friends with has tried it on before now."

"Oh."

"Do you want to have sex with me, Stiles?"

"Wha-, Lydia, wait – do you want to have sex with me?"

"I wouldn't say no. We can just keep it simple. No strings attached, right?"

"Um," Stiles rubs the back of his neck, there's a red tinge to his cheeks that Lydia finds very flattering.

"Just say yes, Stilinski."

He can't even get the word out before she straddles his lip and kisses him. He freezes. It's not like he sees fireworks or anything so cliché but it's as if some tiny part inside of him, something that's kept him tethered until now, has broken.

As his lips start to move under hers, Lydia contemplates how good of a kisser Stiles is. She can't say it was something she was expecting and to say she's pleasantly surprised is an understatement.

She's about to reach for the hem of his shirt when her phone rings.

"Shit!" Lydia curses, suddenly remembering something. "I was supposed to meet my mom for dinner." She starts to answer her phone before turning back to him, "hold that thought," she says with a wicked smile.

* * *

There's no wriggling out of a dinner with her mom, no matter how good Lydia is at twisting people around her little finger. It was precious little time they got to spend together each week and besides, Natalie knew her daughter's trickery and deception like the back of her hand.

They start the night at Lydia's favourite restaurant, the salted caramel chocolate cheesecake was almost worth ruining her plans to seduce Stiles, she thinks, closing her eyes in bliss.

"So," her mom started, "what was so important that you almost stood me up?"

Lydia could only mumble through her mouth of cheesecake.

"Was it a boy?"

"Mom!" Lydia knew that her mother had been keen for her to move on after Jackson left, especially since she didn't quite approve of the way Jackson treated her daughter in the first place.

"Okay, I won't ask," Natalie laughs. "Hey, how about we catch the late showing of that movie you've been wanting to see?"

"Sure, mom."

It's just then that Natalie's phone rings and simultaneously they hear a blare of sirens as they exit the restaurant. It's clear that her mom breathes a sigh of frustration before she answers the phone.

As Lydia walks a little way away from her mother she hears the start of the same old argument she's heard a thousand times before.

"This is the-," a pause and then, "I'm with my daughter, Miller," there's another pause, longer this time and then, "fine, I'll meet you there."

"I'm sorry, Lydia," Natalie says as she approaches her daughter.

"It's okay mom, you have to go."

"I'll only be down the street, there's a gang of thugs holding up a bank. You should still go to see the movie; I can come and join you when I'm done."

"Be careful."

* * *

Since Lydia had left a few hours earlier, Spider-Man had been putting in a double shift, swinging around the city, looking for trouble and trying to clear his head.

 _What exactly did a girl like Lydia Martin want with a guy like him?_ Stiles thinks as he strings up a small-time thief in front of the convenience store he'd just robbed.

 _Does she actually want me or is this just boredom?_ He asks himself as he easily breaks up a gang fight.

Stiles only realises that something is seriously wrong when he happens upon the red and blue lights outside of the bank. As he stops to check what is happening one of the officers receives a call on their radio stating a false alarm. Almost simultaneously an out-of-breath member of the public runs up to the host of police cars, shouting about a hostage situation at Movie Theater less than two blocks away.

Spider-man takes off before any of the police even start to act, swinging his way through the darkness.

* * *

Lydia is worried about her mom.

Despite the fact that her mother is frequently put into dangerous situations, Lydia knows that she is well able to handle the worst of the job. However, as she stands a few buildings down from the theater, debating whether to see the movie or just head home, Lydia frets.

It's only as a blur of red and blue rushes past her that she starts to feel inexplicably calm again. She doesn't even register that it was Spider-Man until the sirens follow.

Her mom arrives at the scene five minutes later, sobbing with relief when she sees Lydia, standing there, looking shell-shocked but very much alive.

"Mom, what's happening?"

"They're holding hostages in there," Natalie says, and lowering her voice adds, "Over the radio it's coming that they have some kind of explosive device."

Natalie helps the other officers to cordon off the area, telling Lydia to wait behind the police line.

"Mom, Spider-Man is in there," Lydia says, a worried look on her face.

* * *

Stiles arrives to a group of masked men threating a room of movie-goers.

"Not to butt in," he says, walking along the edge of one of the balconies, "but are you sure he knows what he's doing with that?"

The man he was referring to was clearly the one in charge of the explosive device. Even just to look at him from a distance such as Stiles was, it was clear from the sweat dripping off the end of his nose that he didn't think much to his job description.

"Looks to me like what you have there is a homemade chemical device and you should know they can be very unpredictable."

By this point Stiles has distracted them enough that the back few rows of the theater have managed to sneak out.

The men soon decide they've had enough of Spider-Man and retaliate with gunfire. As soon as they start shooting, the audience left in the theater screams and starts to run. Stiles tries to draw their fire, swinging from the ceiling of the balcony as if he's taking a lazy walk in the park.

As he does so, he spots the container of chemicals split as one of the men's gunfire goes astray. Spider-Man reacts quicker than anyone, making a speedy exit from the building just before it explodes.

* * *

Lydia, who stands in the only spot of light down the dim alleyway, the source of the brightness is the streetlight above her. She had been about to set off for home when the explosion had occurred, causing her to duck for cover and hearing a noise at the end of the alley she's stopped, squinting into the bright light. Whatever it is crawls along the wall towards her and she backs away until she can see.

Spider-Man seems to look right at her and his gaze seems so familiar. But as soon as Lydia starts to call out to him, he is gone.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me. As you can probably tell, I suck at updating. Real life and all that jazz. Thank you to those who reviewed, they make my day ^.^

* * *

Chaos. Her concern for her daughter alleviated Natalie Martin surveys the scene with a professional eye. Lydia had gotten a black cab safely home and Natalie allows herself to be a cop once more. She focuses her attention on clearing the area of civilians and directing the forensic and clear-up teams.

And then there's her least favourite part of the job – Gerard Argent. The editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle makes her job about ten times harder than it is already is.

She groans inwardly when she spots him standing at the front of the building speaking to a news station representative about what had happened earlier tonight. To Natalie – who had her fair share of experience with reporters - it was clear from the setup of the camera the broadcast was live.

"Spider-man is a menace. And if you need proof just look at the scene behind me – this being one of the only historic buildings we have left in this city. And as you can see it has been absolutely blasted to smithe-."

"Let me stop you there, Mr Argent," Natalie says as she finally wades her way through the crowd of by-standers. "First of all, Spider-Man saved almost a hundred innocent lives today. If it had not been for his bravery, those people would be dead. Secondly, this is a crime scene and as you have been advised on multiple occasions –, "she speaks directly to the camera man, "-you can't film here." The camera man sullenly switches off the camera and holds his hand out to accept the fine slip, as per regulation.

As she walks away she can still hear Gerard complaining to anybody who will listen.

* * *

Lydia scans the results of her web-search with shaking hands. Her search: 'identity of Spider-Man,'yields a shockingly large amount of material. In spite of this, she had quickly found that the amount of legitimate information on the matter was around zero to none.

As soon as she'd entered the house she'd turned the TV to the local news channel, the only footage they'd managed to gather was of Gerard Argent being a dick as per and her mom shooting him down. The video was repeated this time with a voiceover from the newsreader, "the incident happened earlier tonight, the perpetrators of this brutal attack have been confirmed dead in the explosion. There are no other casualties."

It was weird, though she'd been a fan of Spider-Man before tonight, the effect their encounter had inflicted on her had been instantaneous. All she could think of was finding him again, even if it was only to thank him for the lives he'd saved. After all, she reminds herself, one different decision on her part and it could have been her life he'd saved.

Her thoughts turn back to the computer screen and she gives the search up as a bad job.

She'd just have to try another way.

* * *

"Hey Lydia!" Malia yells at her from the opposite end of the corridor.

Lydia smiles warmly. She's extremely popular at school but there are only really two friends that hold a special place in her heart. As she approaches Malia she sees that Kira is hidden behind her girlfriend's height.

"If I were just to see you two all day, I would be the happiest girl alive," Lydia smiles at the two girls, their hands linked together so casually. When Lydia looks at them, it's all she can do to hope that one day she would have a relationship as easy and carefree as theirs, for now though, she was happy as she was.

"You know, there's always room for one more in this relationship," Kira said, it was an ongoing joke between the three of them, that one day Lydia would want in on the action too.

"Oi," Malia said, "hands off my girl, red."

Lydia hears a stifled laugh behind her and turns to see the body of Stiles Stilinski, his head currently stuffed in a locker.

She swears the heat in her cheeks has nothing to do with his proximity.

"Anyway, I saw your mom on the TV last night. She was awesome," Malia states proudly.

"Spider-Man's biggest defender, as usual," Kira beams.

"I just wish I could thank him myself, I was going to that movie theatre," Stiles' locker slams loudly for a second, making her jump. And for one thrilling, terrifying moment, she thinks he's going to talk to her. Here, in front of her friends and everybody else. But as she risks a glance over her shoulder to check, she sees him disappearing into the crowd of people.

"I saw him last night, you know," it seems to her Malia and Kira that Lydia hardly misses a beat. "I swear he looked right at me."

"Are you serious?" Kira links arms with her girlfriend and her best friend and steers them both in the direction of class.

By the time last period comes around Lydia is tapping her foot, more than anxious to be out of school. Stiles is sitting directly in front of her, plaid sleeves rolled up to the elbows and reminding her that she hasn't had sex in at least four months.

When Mr. Harris has his back turned she sneaks her phone from her pocket to under her desk and types a quick text: A _re you busy tonight?_

He sends a smile - more likely to be described as a smirk by Lydia - over his left shoulder and subtly shaking his head.

She lets out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and her eyes flick back to the clock.

* * *

"Did your mom really do that?" It's the first thing he asks when he arrives at her house and she would have been offended if he hadn't looked so impressed.

"Do what? The Spider-Man thing?"

"Defend him? What does she even do?" Stiles asks, his nervous energy showing as he fiddles with a loose thread on his jeans.

"She's the Police Captain. And she defends him because she believes, as do I, that he protects this city without anything in return. We believe he deserves the same courtesy."

"I'm sure he gets something out of it," he says quietly, with a small smile to Lydia.

She walks away from him, heading into the vast kitchen at the end of the hallway. It's only then that Stiles realises this is the first time he's actually been inside Lydia's house. He'd known her family was wealthy but her kitchen alone was the same size as the entire ground floor of his own house. Though he tried not to let his awe show, Stiles doubted he was successful but thankfully Lydia chose to ignore the expression on his face.

"So, waffles and ice cream?" She asks, with an almost wicked smile painted on her crimson lips.

"Always," Stiles replies, grinning back.

They eat in her room sat in their usual spots at either end of the bed, though their toes touch gently.

Stiles can't forget about the other night when Lydia suggested they have sex and kissed him, before leaving him all alone, contemplating where the suggestion had come from and what her motives had been.

He looks at her, as if he has the power to see into her mind and pull out the answers from the depths of her beautiful green eyes. But spiders don't have that power and so neither does he and besides her eyes are averted, still finishing her snack.

It surprises him that as soon as she sets her plate down on the bedside table she's back on his lap, right where she had been the night before. And it occurred to him – only for a second before he dismissed it – that she might want this even more than he did.

She kisses him then and it's an urgent kiss, just like it was the night before and he leans into it for a second, eyes closing before he makes a conscious effort to pull away.

"We need to talk about this, Lydia."

"About what?" she flutters her eyelashes at him.

"Don't act coy now. About this," he gestures between them, "about us, having sex."

"You mean like ground rules?" Lydia asks.

"Well yes, if this is seriously what you want."

"I want to have sex with you. I don't want to be tied down."

"So what you're saying is you want to have sex with other people as well," Stiles raises an eyebrow.

"What I'm saying is I don't want a boyfriend."

"So you won't have sex with other people?"

"I will tell you if I intend to, how's that?" Lydia smiles down at him.

"Fine," Stiles replies hesitantly having run out of viable questions to ask.

"Now are we going to fuck? Because I'm starting to think you're gay," Lydia jokes.

Instead of trying to retort Stiles grabs her hips and curves his up towards her, smiling at her whimper of 'oh, shit!' as she feels him hard beneath her.

* * *

Stiles swings lazily through the streets, happier than he's been in quite a while. At least until the disturbance in Times Square crackles through his scanner.

Stiles realises about halfway through the fight that he's never faced anything quite like this before when he narrowly avoids a throatful of sand. Without some sort of plan, Stiles swings away, knowing that he is on the verge of failure. Though the sandman seems to lose interest once there's no little spider to play with, Stiles watches from a nearby rooftop to ensure that no harm will come to the people milling around the tourist trap.

He watches the sandman tumble away into the darkness, realising that being Spider-Man just got a whole lot more dangerous.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles answers after only a few seconds, "I'm on my way to yours right now," he says and then the phone line goes dead.

Scott sits with his back to the window, one headphone in his ear, yet he hears his friend enter, the guy may be a superhero but it's clear that 'stealthy' isn't in his repertoire.

"How do you sneak up on people, dude? Isn't that a major part of your job description?"

Stiles huffs at his friend in lieu of an answer and flops down on Scott's bed. Groaning, Stiles stares at the ceiling, picking out the cracks that spider-web across the flat white surface.

"I need your help Scotty," Stiles says, tracking one particularly long crack from one side of the room to the other.

Unexpectedly, the door opens and Scott's dad, John, pokes his head around the door, looking surprised at the sight of Stiles near passed out on his son's bed. "Stiles, hi, you know we have a perfectly good door downstairs."

"Hey, Mr Mccall. I tried that first. It's locked."

"Exactly," John grins at both the boys. "Anyway, I came to tell you that I'm going out Scott. And - uhm – don't wait up."

Scott waits till the door closes before whispering, "no way!" in the direction of his friend.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you serious? He clearly has a date."

"No way!" Stiles almost leaps across the room in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Mr. Mccall's elusive date but instead only sees the headlights of his shiny silver Jeep reversing out of the drive.

"My father is a gentleman, I'll have you know and if he's going on a date then he's clearly going to pick her up."

"Dammit," Stiles says, "well, I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."

"What did you need anyway?"

"What?" Stiles turns to look at his friend with the most gormless look on his face that Scott can't help but burst out laughing.

"You said that you needed something," Scott manages when he finally draws enough breath to answer.

"Oh. Yeah. Sandman."

"Sandman?"

"Sandman."

"Cool."

Stiles is no stranger to research but it seems to go about ten times faster with Scott cracking jokes by his side and letting Stiles bounce ideas off him.

* * *

 _"Your mom's nice," Scott says to his new classmate, Stiles, who raises his hand to wave at the lady retreating down the street. Stiles' other hand is crushing a bag of candy, given to him by said lady and which he'd promised to share with Scott at break time._

" _That's my Aunt Melissa," Stiles says proudly and then, a couple of seconds later, sadly, "My mom and dad are dead."_

" _My mom's dead too," Scott repeats, with the same sad tone and a crease between his eyebrows. "My dad told me not to talk to the other kids about it because they wouldn't understand," he pauses, "but you do."_

" _Yeah," Stiles says with a small smile. "I do. Let's go play before school."_

 _Later that day, Scott stands up for Stiles when a bigger boy pushes him off the swing. That's when Stiles knows that Scott will always be his best friend._

* * *

 _They'd been inseparable, until they'd been sent to different high schools. As it turned out the catchment areas for schools had been changed that year, and Scott lived just outside the radius for Midtown High. He ended up attending Beacon High School, which was just a short walk away for him, but meant that he and Stiles had become, well, separated._

 _It hadn't stopped them though, they were each comfortable in the others' house and with the others' lone guardian. They'd spend Mondays at Scott's because Stiles' Aunt worked two jobs and they'd spend Thursday and Friday at Stiles'._

 _When Stiles had been bitten by the radioactive spider on the school trip and started to learn about his powers the next day, Scott was the only one he had trusted enough to tell. Scott helped however he could, he wasn't smart – not in the way Stiles was, but he had a way of thinking around the problem rather than looking straight for the solution – something Stiles sometimes had a problem with._

* * *

"So he's made entirely out of sand?" Scott looks both impressed and confused at the same time.

"Yeah," Stiles sighs. "Things are just getting too weird."

"Don't worry. We'll find a way for you to take him out."

"I was wondering if there was maybe a way to isolate his particles," Stiles doesn't look sure.

"Hm. That might work," says Scott. "How would you make sure that he stays that way?"

"I don't know. I'd need to think about it," Stiles rubs his temples. "Thinking about it is all I've been doing recently."

The Sandman had announced his intentions publicly earlier in the week. He'd said that if the little spider didn't come out to play soon then he would start picking off the residents of New York City instead. And though Stiles knew better than to blame himself he also remembered the vow he'd sworn – both to himself and Uncle Ben – to protect his city and the people in it.

"You need a break, Stiles, you're no good to anyone like this."

"That won't stop me from trying," Stiles says.

"I know, buddy. I'm not saying for forever, just for a couple of hours," Scot decides to change the topic. "Hey, what's going on with Lydia? Have you seen her again?"

Stiles couldn't believe it. With everything else that had been going on he had completely forgotten to tell Scott about Lydia.

"We've been spending so much time together lately. She kind of asked me the other day to be – well basically her fuck buddy."

Scott frowns, "and it's clear from the way you can't meet my eye that you said yes."

"Well yeah, what else was I supposed to say? This is Lydia we're talking about."

"So just because it's Lydia you've lost all reason?" Scott takes a breath to calm himself. "Dude, you had a plan."

"A plan that's gotten me nowhere in nearly ten years," Stiles says indignantly.

"Stiles, she's going to break your heart," Scott says, looking his friend squarely in the eye. He knows Stiles has always had a blind spot when it comes to Lydia but he'd never realised that he would do something so drastically stupid.

"Relax, Scott. Everything will be fine. I get to sleep with the girl of my dreams and keep Spidey under wraps at the same time."

Scott takes a breath and tries a last time to reason with his friend. "Stiles. Not only is this Lydia we're talking about, the girl you've been in love with since third grade, but you've given her your virginity besides. What about this is possibly going to go right?"

"You'll see."

"And she's going to find out about Spider-man."

"Not a chance."

* * *

John checks on Scott when he gets home. He knows it's paranoia of losing his wife so young that makes him anxious for Scott. The desire to know that his son is safe is not something that he feels all the time, it hits him randomly.

Earlier this evening, after he'd dropped Melissa off at her house there it was, the sudden urge to get back home. He'd driven almost double the speed limit all the way back restlessly bouncing his foot on the gas pedal.

His fears alleviate when he spots his son curled up on his own bed and when he opens the door a little further he spots Stiles asleep in Scott's computer chair. He smiles fondly at the scene, the two boys had been friends for so long that John looked on Stiles as though he were a second son. Lord knew that the pair of them had been though too much in their younger years; it was a relief to know that at least they had each other.

John smiles as he closes the door slipping his phone from his pocket. He sends Melissa a text to let her know Stiles is safe. I had a great night; he adds and then pauses for a second while he thinks about deleting it.

He sends it anyway.

* * *

Stiles jolts awake to Scott standing above him. It's a few seconds before he works out that in addition to standing above him, Scott is also yelling something.

"Jesus Christ, Scotty, if you wanted to give me a bleeding heart attack that's just about the right way to do it."

"This is no time for jokes, Stiles. I've figured it out."

"Figured what out? The ability to talk so loud you could legitimately kill someone?"

"No. Stiles listen. Sandman. We can blast him with heat so high that he'll turn into glass."

"Genius," Stiles says, leaping out of Scott's chair and then wincing at the pain that comes with a night of sleeping in a computer chair. "I'm going to go home and start work on that." Stiles is halfway to the window when he stops in his tracks.

"Shit!"

"What?"

"I didn't text my Aunt last night. She's going to kill me."

"It will be fine, I'm sure my dad let her know you were here."

"Maybe," Stiles says, giving Scott a bear hug before tripping over the window ledge onto the balcony.

Scott watches his friend jump off the end of his balcony as he has so many times before and as he has countless times before, Scott wonders if anyone is watching.

As he leans his head against the slowly warming windowpane in the morning sun he watches a car moving slowly down the street. He watches, astonished as it pulls in at the house opposite.

He shakes his head, knowing that said house has been empty for months. And that's not all.

He knows that car.


End file.
